"Free men fight with weapons," said Miles. "They are not animals."
"Warriors are trained in unarmed combat," I said.
"But only as a last resort, only for emergencies," said Miles.
I shrugged. There were surely those at the table who knew more of such things than I.
"It is difficult to kill a man with your bare hands," said Miles.
"There are several ways in which it may be done, easily," said Callimachus.
"Yes," I said.
"Yes," said Calliodorus.
"Yes," agreed Aemilianus.
"Oh," said Miles of Vonda.
"Are you enjoying your supper?" I asked Calliodorus, who had been rather subdued most of the evening.
"Yes," he said. "It is very nice."
"I see that you have brought no slave with you," I said.
"No," he said.
Calliodorus, as we knew, had once wooed a maid in Port Cos. The companionship, however, had never materialized. The maid, it seems, before the ceremony, had fled the city.
"You should have a slave," I said. "They are marvelous in contenting a man."
"There is only one woman," he said, "on whose lovely throat I ever wanted to lock a slave collar."
I lifted the tiny silver cup to my lips and took a drop of the black wine. Its strength and bitterness are such that it is normally drunk in such a manner, usually only a drop or a few drops at a time. Commonly, too, it is mollified with creams and sugars. I drank it without creams and sugars, perhaps, for I had been accustomed, on Earth, to drinking coffee in such a manner, and the black wine of Gor is clearly coffee, or closely akin to coffee. Considering its bitterness, however, if I had not been drinking such a tiny amount, and so slowly, scarcely wetting my lips, I, too, would surely have had recourse to the tasty, gentling additives with which it is almost invariably served.
"Master, may I have that pastry?" asked Florence, indicating the one she desired.
"No," he said.
She knelt back.
But I noticed that, in a moment, he had given it to her, and she knelt back on her heels, her knees closely together, holding it with two hands, eating it.
I watched Aemilianus' slave emerging from the kitchen. I listened to the unobtrusive music of the musicians, who were sitting on a rug a few feet in front of, and to the left of, the table. I took another sip of the black wine.
The voluptuous blond slave began to lower certain of the lamps.
"What are you doing?" I asked her.
"Forgive me, Master," she said. She then hurried again to the kitchen. As she had done this work the light in the room was romantically softened, but an area, soft as well, of greater illumination had been left before the table. When she had left the room, the musicians, too, had stopped playing. This seemed interesting.
"What is going on?" asked Miles of Vonda.
"I do not know," I said.
"Is it an entertainment?" asked Glyco.
"Perhaps," I said.
The blond slave of Aemilianus then re-entered the room. She placed a large, folded square of sparkling white linen at the bottom of the table. She then lit a wide, large, low candle and placed this candle, on a plate, on the soft, wide square of folded linen. She then withdrew to the side.
I looked at the white linen, and the candle, in the half darkness.
I was startled.
What memories this stirred in me!
The musicians then began to play, softly. The girl emerged from the kitchen.
There were sounds of pleasure, and surprise, from those about the table.
"She is beautiful," said Tasdron.
"What manner of garments are those?" asked Glyco.
The dark-haired girl, exquisite and lovely, stood in the light, on the tiles, back from the foot of the table, that we might well see her. Her hair was drawn severely back on her head. She wore what seemed to be a svelte, satin, off-the-shoulder, white sheath gown. Twisted about her feet, over and under, were golden straps.
"I do not understand this," said Miles of Vonda. "Is this meaningful?"
I was almost overwhelmed. "It is very meaningful to me," I said. "Permit me, my friends, to explain. First, Glyco, in answer to your question, the garments she wears are much like, and are meant to suggest, the garments which a free woman may wear on Earth."
"But they are slave garments," said Glyco. "See! The arms and the shoulders are bare!"
"Nonetheless," I said, "on Earth free women may wear such garments."
The girl then turned gracefully before us, displaying the garments. I saw that her hair, severely drawn back on her head, was fastened behind the back of her head in a bun. I had known it would be. I had not forgotten.
"They are slave garments," said Glyco.
"True," I said, "but to understand what she is doing, you must understand that such garments, on Earth, are understood to be exquisite and lovely free-woman's garments."
"Very well," said Glyco.
"Too," I said, "they are, in this case, meant to remind me of, and resemble, the garments which she once wore, as a free woman, to a meeting with me. That is important."
"I understand," said Glyco.
"They would also be the garments in which, for the first time, to my knowledge, she had ever dared to explicitly express her femininity."
"Do the women on Earth not dare to express their femininity?" asked Glyco.
"Many fear to do so," I said.
"What of the men of Earth?" asked Glyco.
"Many of them encourage the women to pretend to be pseudo-men," I said.
"What sort of men are they?" asked Glyco.
"I do not know," I said.
"Observe the hair," I said.
"It seems severe, tight, rigid, constricted, constrained," said Glyco.
That is part of the costume, so to speak," I said, "of many male-imitating women. The straight lines and severity are supposed to suggest, I gather, efficiency and masculinity."
"Interesting," said Glyco. "It is incongruous, of course, with the garment, which seems rather feminine."
"Such incongruities," I said, "are not uncharacteristic of many Earth women. They can indicate ambiguities in self images and confusions, in particular, as to their sexuality. There might, of course, I suppose, be many other reasons for them. For example, in some cases, they may represent that a transition is in progress toward femininity."
"The cloth on the table and the candle," said Miles of Vonda, "are supposed to suggest to you the place of this meeting of which you spoke."
"Yes," I said. "It was a place where food was served, and where one might engage in pleasant conversation."
"A tavern?" asked Tasdron.
"Not exactly," I said. There is no precise Gorean expression for a restaurant. "There were no paga slaves there, and no dancers."
"Why would one go to such a place?" asked Miles of Vonda.
"She went there that she might engage in delicate and intimate discourse with me," I said.
"That she might offer herself to you as your slave?" asked Glyco.
"If so," I said, "that was not clearly understood at the time."
"She appears then now before us," said Glyco, "much as she appeared then before you?"
"Yes," I said, "though there are, of course, differences. For example, at that time, her throat was bare." The girl now wore a light white scarf twisted about her throat, the ends over her left shoulder. "Too," I said, "at that time she carried a small silver-beaded pouch."
"I see," said Glyco.
The girl did not now, of course, carry a purse. Slave girls are not permitted to carry such things. When shopping she carries the coins usually in her mouth or hand. Sometimes she ties them in a scarf about a wrist or ankle. Sometimes her master places them in a bag, which is then tied about her neck. Gorean garments, generally, incidentally, except for the garments of craftsmen, do not have pockets. Coins, and personal items, and such, are usually, by free persons, carried in pouches, which are usually concealed within the robes of a free woman, or slung about the waist, or shoulder, of a free man.